


we’ll be alright

by artificialgeese



Category: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Tcest dni poopie 😁, donnie. has bipolar 2., vent fic, yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28004919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialgeese/pseuds/artificialgeese
Summary: “No,” Donnie lies instantly, he cringes at the urgency of his words, “No I- I’m fine-““I don’t think you are,” Leo says, voice laced with worry.
Relationships: Donatello & Leonardo (TMNT)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	we’ll be alright

Crashing often feels like smashing face first into concrete at speeds unbeknownst to any still living thing, Donnie thinks. The complete shock that pulses through him when his overworked dopamine receptors decide to shut down at random wrecks his body completely. Whatever was being worked on is forgotten. The longings for productivity, success, grandeur drain from him in whole and are replaced with the incessant chimes of worthless. There’s nothing to do but shut down. Retreat into himself. Crawl under the sheets and bite his lip at the lack of functionality of his own mind. Because he is useless.

And it hurts. It hurts more than any scab or scrape because it lingers. It sticks to him for days. Sometimes weeks. And it feels like mud. Mud clinging on to his brain and under his nails and to the surface of his skin. Fogging him from being able to do anything. Cutting off whatever connection he has to productivity. Leaving him to rot alone in an all too cold room. He desperately wants to scrub it off. Friction from his fingertips to the leathery skin of his forearm creates a stinging that leaves the surface raw. The stinging, like the mud, lingers, but only for a minute or two. 

He desperately wants to get up to do something. Anything to distract his mind from his sudden onslaught of thoughts that are too overwhelming. But he physically can’t. His legs are absurdly numb and he just can’t move. He wants to cry. He feels like crying. Because when your mind tells you to destroy itself in a moment's notice it hurts. But no tears come out because he can’t cry. He thinks he might be dehydrated, or maybe his tear ducts just can’t be bothered. Instead there’s still sobs, but they come out as dry wheezes. His face contorts as his throat closes up and releases short, shallow gasps. It hurts so much. Everything does. He wants to die so bad. He wants it to be over. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He wants it to be over.

He thinks maybe, in the midst of his deterioration, that he should talk to someone. That he wants to talk to someone. To relieve some, any of this weight. But it’s terrifying. The notion of asking one his brothers, his own family, for help is terrifying. They’ll think him worthless. They’ll think of him as a burden. And it’s terrifying. Donnie wishes his lungs would just pop and bronchioles explode so he doesn’t have to deal with this. It feels like they’re about to anyway. He doesn’t know how much time passes of him just sitting there, mangled gasps escaping from his throat, sinking into his own exponentially morbid thoughts.

“Hey-“ there’s a voice. He knows the voice and he knows who’s there. He lets out another dry sob that sounds like scraping, “Woah- hey, Dee?” He really doesn’t want to deal with Leo right now. He wonders if he yells at him to leave he will. There’s no energy left to kick or to scream so he’s stuck looking like a pathetic sack of shit with no way to ward him off.

“Fuck off,” Donnie attempts to say, but there’s no vigor in his delivery. It’s just sad. 

“No?” Leo says, placing a hand on the sheets. Donnie can feel his bed creak under the added weight of his twin now sitting on it. “Donnie I-“ he sounds unsure of what words to use, “Are you ok?”

He is not. There’s so much wrong with his brain. Oh to tell your brother how your mind told you were absolutely impenetrable to screaming that you were worthy of nothing and no one. His cheeks burn in shame at the absurd thoughts of grandiose he had just hours before. There’s a fleeting voice in the back of his head telling him to go slack jawed and just tell his brother every horrible thought he’s had. In the past who knows how many hours. And how those thoughts will most likely persist throughout the days or weeks. Thoughts that scare him. That make him think he’s absolutely unwell. But, Leo is just as, if not more, fucked up than him. So who knows. “‘M fine,” he grits out, teeth clenched.

Leo puts a hand on his shoulder, that’s buried beneath the sheets. “How are you like-“ he hesitates again, “feeling?”

Donnie sits up from the sheets, shifting to look up at his younger brother. His face is pinched with worry, it’s weird to see Leo like this. He sits there for a beat or two, wondering what to say. His mind stays blank. Because he doesn’t know what to say. It’s static. “I want to kill myself,” is the first thought that runs from the wire of Donnie’s mind to his mouth, instantly regretting it as soon as it tumbles out into words. Leo’s eyes blow wide, face twisting in confusion because Donnie knows he doesn’t know what to do.

“Do you um-“ Leo’s words fall out quickly, “Do you actually mean that?”

“No,” Donnie lies instantly, he cringes at the urgency of his words, “No I- I’m fine-“

“I don’t think you are,” Leo says, voice laced with worry. 

Donnie’s nails grip at his forearm, digging at his already raw skin. He drives them further in as he thinks of something to say. Something to just get Leo to leave. Leo watches with that persisting pinched expression as Donnie claws at his forearm, thinking, thinking, thinking. 

Leo takes Donnie’s right hand in his own, removing it from scratching at his own skin. He awkwardly holds it as Donnie watches their hands interlock. There’s a breath from Leo before starting, “I know I don’t tell you this a lot,” Donnie cringes, bracing himself for what he’s about to say, “But I- I really, really love you, Dee. If you need anyone, God I mean, Mikey is probably better to talk to than me, but. If you just- I don’t know- need to talk? We’re here. We always will be. We’re your family.”

There’s a part of Donnie that screams Leo is lying. But there’s also a part of Donnie that absolutely breaks. The tears leak out unwillingly as Leo's face grows more concerned. The few spare tears turn into full sobs, wrecking his lungs. Impulsively, Leo wraps his arms around his twin, interlocking around his back.

Donnie startles, not expecting the sudden movement, before returning the hug. As his sobs grow more devastating the grip around his brother strengthens. His forehead rests on his younger brother's shoulder. He smells really gross, but to be fair Donnie probably also smells gross. 

“It hurts,” Donnie says, finally able to get a word through the sobs, “It hurts so bad and I can’t do anything.” He feels Leo’s arms squeeze around him in reassurance. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Leo starts, still clinging to his brother. “I dunno what you’re going through right now. Or why you feel like this. But I know-“ he takes a breath, “I know you don’t deserve to feel like this. And I know we’ll get through this. Ok?”

Donnie takes a breath in. He can feel his little brother’s arms clenched around his narrow frame, as if he himself might disappear. “Ok,” he says sniffing and still feeling absolutely horrid, “We’ll get through it”


End file.
